


Sketches of Wars Yet to Fight

by zarabithia



Category: Captain America, Marvel 616
Genre: Community: lgbtfest, Gen, Sexual Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-24
Updated: 2010-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-06 15:44:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liberation isn't quite as freeing as it should be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sketches of Wars Yet to Fight

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: As a soldier in the US Army, Steve Rogers has to keep his sexual orientation secret. But as Captain America, he's supposed to oppose everything the Nazis stand for, and the Nazis are putting homosexuals into concentration camps. How can a soldier in the 1940s reconcile his duty and his principles?

"Are you alright, Cap?" Bucky's voice was low, but Steve had been partners with the kid long enough to hear the confusion in his partner's tone.

Steve understood why Bucky was confused. As terrible as concentration camps were, as much as they represented everything that Steve Rogers had signed up to fight against, as much as they were proof of how utterly and completely evil Hitler was...this wasn't the first camp Captain America and Bucky had helped to liberate.

It probably wouldn't be the last either, and Bucky's question, silent and not understanding, was _"why is this one hitting you harder than the last one did?"_

It was a sign that Bucky was a good partner, Steve told himself. Paying that close attention to his partner's moods would be a definite benefit in battle. The scrawny camp mascot was well on his way to being a genuine soldier.

Steve wanted to be proud, but the sick feeling in his gut over-ruled that particular emotion, as his eyes swept over the pink triangles sown onto rows of fallen men that held the answer to Bucky's question.

~~~

_Arnie's hand reached down and grabbed the notebook out of Steve's hand. _

_"Hey!" Steve protested, not used to having his best friend and guardian being a tormentor. "Arnie, give that back."_

_"I just want to look at what you've been drawing all day, Stevie," Arnie said, his voice as smooth as his slicked back hair. "I'll give it back, I promise."_

_Steve flushed and coughed, and made a weak effort to snatch his notebook back. But it was too late. Arnie glanced at the pages, and then back at Steve, and observed, "You sure do draw an awful lot of **men,** Stevie."_

~~~

The first time Steve saw those patches of pink, it was just him, Bucky, and the rest of the Invaders. Namor didn't quite understand what the significance of the pink triangles were, and Steve didn't trust his voice to answer, so he let Bucky fill Namor in.

Steve concentrated on making sure that the wounded and sick were taken care of immediately, and tried not to think about where they would go after they were healed.

It wouldn't be home to their families. Most likely, it would be to a German jail.

That was the unspoken answer to Bucky's question, really. What the Nazis did to everyone in these camps was equally terrible, and Steve knew that when the nightmares inevitably came in the years to follow - he couldn't imagine a future where this war wouldn't plague him - the acts committed to _everyone_ imprisoned by the Nazis would haunt him.

Those persecuted for religious, ethnic, or racial reasons, however, Steve had saved. Not all of them, of course, and for far too many, the freedom had come too little, too late. But for those that survived, he had saved.

He couldn't say the same for those wearing the pink triangles.

~~~

_"You should be careful where you leave this, laying around, Stevie," Arnie said, continuing to thumb through the notebook. "Person might have awfully good reason to think you like boys."_

_"I like girls," Steve said defiantly, still trying in vain to get his notebook back._

_"Oh, Stevie, you really **are** hopeless sometimes," Arnie said, with the weary voice of someone who just knew far better than Steve could ever hope to. "Just because you like girls doesn't mean you can't like boys, too."_

~~~

The great, and terrible, thing about war was that it didn't give you much time to dwell. Liberation might have been at hand as they made their way through Germany, but there were still battles to be fought.

The second time Steve Rogers came into contact with the pink triangles, the victims were being used for medical experiments. Castrations and mutations were both the result of the Nazi desire to make every available man contribute to the Aryan race.

Most of the prisoners at that camp Steve carried, and a full two-thirds were unconscious. The medic's diagnosis was pretty grim.

Steve stood and watched as they were flown or driven away, the burden of his own necessary silence grew increasingly heavy on his shoulders.

~~~

_"But how do you know?" Steve asked, full of such naivety that he truly didn't expect kiss that followed. _

_He got a mouth full anyway. It was Steve's first real kiss, and it tasted of hot dogs and weak coffee, the kind that was a desperate effort to make that last four scoops last a full month._

_"You...like them both?" Steve asked, once his lips were his own again. "Boys and girls?"_

_"Yeah, Stevie, and I'd guess you probably do, too," Arnie answered, before taking on a somber tone. "But you gotta be careful, Stevie. You can't tell anyone. It's gotta stay a secret."_  
  
~~~

"I didn't mean anything by it, Sir," the lieutenant said, clearly confused by the rage on Captain America's face, and backpedaling as fast as he could in order to avoid that wrath.

"Oh, I think you did," Steve responded angrily, his fists balled at his side. "After everything these people have been through, for you to disrespect them that way - it's unacceptable."

"With respect, Sir," a second soldier, a sergeant, pointed out, clearing his throat, "All the lieutenant was saying is that these people kind of brought it on themselves. It's harder to feel sorry for them."

"You can't honestly believe that." Steve's voice wasn't much louder than a whisper, and he knew from the confused looks the lieutenant and sergeant were giving each other, that he was dangerously close to giving away his secret.

"Sure I can. Look, I feel sorry the Jews and everything. What Hitler's done to them is terrible. I used to play ball with a Jewish kid back home, little Johnny Leibowitz. Good guy. Signed up to fight the same day I did." The sergeant shrugged. "But _these_ guys, they're just perverts. Maybe what the Nazis are doing ain't right by them, either, but if they hadn't been doing what they'd been doing..."

"The Nazis wouldn't have bothered 'em," the lieutenant finished.

"And of course, neither of you have ever played ball with a _pervert_," Steve said slowly.

The disgust on their faces was almost enough - _almost_.

But the shield on Steve's back was heavier than the anger and guilt their words caused. Once again, he didn't speak up.

~~~

_"But I promised Momma I'd always speak up for the things that were important to me," Steve told Arnie. He pressed his lips together, savoring the taste of that kiss on his lips._

_"Yeah, well, what would dear old Momma say if she knew you liked boys?" Arnie answered._

_"She...wouldn't care," Steve said hesitantly, his own voice betraying the thought that maybe his mother would hold it against him after all._

_She wanted him to be a **good** boy, after all._

_"You willing to bet your life on it, Stevie?" Arnie asked. "Because that's what's at stake. As much as people hurt you now, if anyone ever found out, they'd hurt you a whole lot worse."_

_"Just for loving someone? That's not right," Steve claimed indignantly, jumping in surprise when Arnie dropped his notebook back into his lap._

_"You have to **promise**, Steve," Arnie argued, his fingers digging into Steve's shoulder._

~~~

He'd made three promises. One to his momma, one to Arnie, and one to the government. In truth, none of them were compatible.

Steve laid in the tent next to Bucky, trying to figure out which of those three he should feel the least guilty about betraying.

The answer, he suspected, was actually all the people he might be able to help, if he could just open his mouth and tell them that he was on _their_ side.

"Steve?"

"What is it, Bucky?"

"I just wanted to let you know...well, sometimes the army is wrong. I mean, they kicked you out at first, didn't they?"

"More like didn't let me in, but yes."

"Well, see. They have all sorts of ...standards that don't...work. And I-I'd be glad to play ball with you anytime." The voice was hesitant, the not entirely confident Bucky that Steve knew, but one who had puzzled out what was bothering his partner after all.

There was no doubt he was setting himself up to be a great solider, Steve thought. If only he had any reason to be as confident in his own soldier abilities.

~~~

_The second kiss was firmer, longer, and Steve pushed any notion of a promise out of his mind. _

_Promises and secrets could wait._

~~~

Steve was relieved when it was just him and Bucky that arrived at the next concentration camp. This one was a mixture of people of different backgrounds that the Nazis found offensive, yet the pink triangles were kept off to their own separate portion of the concentration camp.

Steve swallowed down his bile and again went to helping release prisoners.

"For someone who is winning the war, you sure do look awfully sad, son," one of the more robust of the prisoners commented as Steve helped him towards the waiting medic.

"There's not a whole lot to feel happy about in these camps," Steve answered.

"There is the not insignificant fact that we're leaving," the older man replied.

Steve bowed his head. "But your freedom...I can't guarantee it. Not after you leave here."

"I know that, son." The old man, beaten and bruised like so many of the men Steve had freed in the past few weeks, shook his head. "But that's not your problem. Captain America came here to fight the Nazis, not to fix all of my country's problems. 'Sides, your America has problems of her own, doesn't she?"

Steve thought of Arnie, and of the promise he'd forced himself to make. He thought of the weight of the shield on his back, and the code of conduct the army would never approve of him breaking. "Yes, she does."

The old man nodded, and took a few minutes to catch his breath. "Not been here very long," he told Steve. "Just a few weeks...a lot less than most. Wouldn't have made it if I'd been here much longer. But I was here long enough to know that you arriving to get us out of here is the best thing that's happened to me in a long while."

"I wish I could do more." Wished he could _say_ more.

"I know you do, son. But whatever's bothering you, whatever battle you're wanting to fight instead of this war, maybe you should let it go until there's not quite so much at stake." The old man patted the front of Steve's costume and added, "Unless whatever's bothering you is more important than all the people Captain America has helped today?"

"No," Steve said, clearly and without hesitation.

"Then hold onto it, son. That war you're fighting with yourself will still be here when _this one_ is over."

Steve couldn't argue with that and that...gave him hope. Namely that there would time, after the war was over, to make sure what was happening in Germany didn't happen in his own country, and to make sure that the promise he'd made to Arnie wasn't necessary to keep.

~~~

_It was a week after his kiss with Arnie that Sarah Rogers picked up the notebook, leafed through it as enthusiastically as her sick bones would allow, and told her son, "You draw very beautiful men and women, Stevie." _

_Steve's only answer was to hug his mother as tight as his frail little arms could manage._

~~~

"You look...better," Bucky noted once they were in a plane, headed away from the camp.

"I am," Steve answered. "One of the men in the camp reminded me of some things that I'd lost sight of."

Bucky snorted. "Well, I'm glad _someone_ could," he said, with just a hint of jealousy in his voice.

Steve ruffled Bucky's hair lightly. "You were a help, too, partner," he promised.

Bucky grinned at the compliment. "I still think this mission is a waste of time," he complained. "We should be going off to dig Hitler out of his hole."

"They'll be time for that later," Steve promised. "In the mean time, if the intelligence reports are true, Baron Zemo poses a much more immediate danger."

~~~

_Steve dreamed, almost instantly, once the ice hit his body. Not all the the dreams were pleasant - he dreamed of exploding planes and fallen sidekicks, of pink triangles and soldiers he hadn't been able to save. He relived every mistake and casualty Captain America had suffered, and once again sat helpless at his mother's bedside as illness claimed her life._

_But other dreams were more pleasant. He dreamed of tight motherly hugs, of salty hot dog and coffee kisses, of afternoons free to sketch any form he wanted. He dreamed of Peggy's blonde hair and Bucky's zest to fight, of standing on the beaches of Normandy watching the tide of soldiers pour in._

_But most of all, Steve dreamed of the war he'd wanted so badly to fight, the one the old man had promised would still be waiting on him after the Nazis were defeated._


End file.
